


To Freeze

by FortuneSurfer



Category: Per qualche dollaro in più | For a Few Dollars More (1965)
Genre: Bounty Hunters, Canon-Typical Behavior, Gen, Post-Canon, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:09:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25692586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FortuneSurfer/pseuds/FortuneSurfer
Summary: “And what about you and your legacy, boy? Have you already chosen its form?”
Relationships: "Manco" | The Man with No Name/Douglas Mortimer
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	To Freeze

**Author's Note:**

> Challenge accepted! Written for my friend's prompt in the title.

A peacock with its bright and luxurious plumage spread behind its back slowly turns around and stares at Manco. Manco looks back at it with caution, forgetting to bring his glass to his lips. The ridiculous bird cries out in child’s voice.

Manco tears his gaze from the living decoration walking across the garden quite reluctantly even when Mortimer calls him from behind.

“I’d say the house looks exactly like you’d expect from a man named Letsom Purseley,” the other says, with mockery that is more of a hint than full realization in his voice.

The said beef baron isn’t with him.

“So much money and I bet he doesn’t even know from which side to approach his cows,” replies Manco contemptuously when his partner joins him. “He still busy?”

He looks at his glass, smells the swaying dark fluid in it, and spills the wine in a bush with disgust.

“Looks like it.” Mortimer notices the parading peacock and promises to Manco: “This is not the most impressive part. Let me show you.”

“You’re making me dread, old man.”

*

“Jesus,” succinctly comments Manco a few minutes later, standing in front of a statue of the house owner that’s glaringly burning under the Texas sun.

“Well, that’s not exactly what I thought.”

“You gotta be a special kind of idiot to pay for something you see in the mirror every day.”

“Except with this he paid for what can’t be seen.”

Now that Mortimer has mentioned it, Manco notices how compromising the resemblance actually is. To be precise, how it aims to be flattering to the original.

The house owner reminds them both of the discrepancy when he soon shows up in person – a man markedly less athletic than his bronze figure that is towering over them.

“Oh, gentlemen, you found **me** already! When I’ll have children and grandchildren, I want them to know how their good old pa looked in his prime. Ain’t it a sight to see? I feel like he’s so beautiful the eyes can’t bear to look at him!”

“Maybe it’s the sun,” suggests Manco.

Mortimer chuckles to himself.

Purseley notices the look that Manco gives his statue and mistakes it for envy. He offers: “I can arrange a meeting with the master for you. The man of your reputation – both of you! – deserves some recognition during his life.”

Purseley passionately gestures at his statue.

“Thanks, but, uh,” replies Manco, “there’s something too unnatural in freezing in stone or metal like this.”

“Besides,” adds Mortimer, “my partner has a particular energy about him that would be difficult to convey.” Manco watches him say it, listening to him attentively and not without pleasure. “That is to say he’s got a very vivid personality.“

Purseley laughs and shakes his fist in approval.

“I see! A man of action is somebody I respect!”

“Speaking of that. Mr. Purseley, you said you wanted your men to find us,” starts Mortimer with a pointed disapproval of the fact that they were interrupted, which is only noticeable to Manco, who knows him well, “because of your problem with James Danby’s band.”

“Sure, sure,” agrees Purseley and takes a small case out of his jacket in a nervous gesture.

His fingers with enough golden rings on them to provide for a small town take a pinch of snuff. He inhales it and then says with torrid malice: “Danby. That cockroach.”

Mortimer and Manco simultaneously secretly look at each other, and Manco says to Mortimer with his eyes: _Must_ _be_ _a_ _good_ _guy._

*

“Y’know it would fit you, old man,” says Manco to Mortimer in the evening, sitting in a chair while the colonel pedantically checks his weapons. “A statue, I mean. You have just the face for it.” Manco gets a little shy under Mortimer’s intent gaze that follows after his words and, averting his eyes, tries to overturn his compliment with the help of a dry joke: “And the moustache.”

Mortimer lets him off the hook and curiously inquires, returning to his appeasing professional routine: “And what about you and your legacy, boy? Have you already chosen its form?”

Manco hesitates but in the end decides to admit to his partner an idea that’s close to a dream for him. 

“A song would be not bad.”

“’The ballad of Manco‘,” says Mortimer and smiles. “It has a nice ring to it.”

“Huh. Yeah… I thought so, too.”


End file.
